


Dead on Arrival

by Vanilla_Ella



Series: Misplaced [1]
Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots, tøp
Genre: A little fluff?, Child Abduction, Criminal Activities, F/M, Gen, Illegal Activities, Kidnapping, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slight Angst?, mention of drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 18:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Ella/pseuds/Vanilla_Ella
Summary: It was supposed to be a quick break in and burglary.Until Tyler had another idea."Tyler,” Blurry says firmly but quietly, glaring at the young man who barely spares him a second glance, opting for smiling and cooing at the little bundle in his arms. "Tyler, put the baby down before y' drop it.”





	Dead on Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> hi. I rewrote this over and over till I hated it. I’m sorry it’s been a while since I wrote. 
> 
> also I hope you enjoy? this weird thing I created.

It was supposed to be a quick break in and burglary.

His house was in a gated community, modestly rich and surrounded by green lawns, peonies and daisies growing in the lush grass and giving the perfect illusion of an innocent home.

News of his "stash" was more than reliable, as all of Tyler's inside information always was.

The black ski mask covering his face smells like familiarity and smoke, the scent as comforting as Tyler's reassuring brown opal eyes looking into his.

The window on the east side of the house is left open, too easy of an entryway for the two men that it's almost laughable.

They're able to slip into the darkened room without trouble, feet landing on the soft white carpet. He takes in his surroundings quickly, eyes darting around the room.

It's mostly empty, a small set of drawers pushed against the wall. There are various items scattering the floor: rattles, a sippy cup, a couple of pastel blankets.

One look to the sharp left confirms his suspicions, a tiny cradle tucked into the corner needing no further elaboration or investigation.

"Alright," he says quietly, voice raspy with the late hour shot of whiskey he took moments ago while waiting in the car. "C'mon, Ty."

He quickly and quietly stalks through the room, the carpet making his steps almost soundless. He's by the door when he turns his head, just to make sure the younger man is following him, when he stops.

Tyler is in the corner, standing by the crib, looking in with curiosity and wonder.

"Ty," he whispers, eyes narrowing when the aforementioned man makes no acknowledgement to his call. He stresses the sharp edge in his voice, "Tyler!"

"B..." he mumbles, sounding breathless.

"What?" he groans exasperatedly, hand grasping the silver knob of the door impatiently.

"Come here, Blur," Tyler whispers, and his hands reach into the crib before Blurry can voice his reprimand, gentle hands drawing a tiny baby out.

Blurry stands motionless for a few seconds, slightly dumbfounded as Tyler settles the baby into his arms.

The smile on his face is wider than Blurry's ever seen, wider than whenever their payment came in, wider than whenever they had an easy and fruitful job opportunity to take, wider than.. well, wider than Blurry’s ever seen it.

And maybe that's when he realizes he's royally screwed. 

"Tyler,” Blurry says firmly but quietly, glaring at the young man who barely spares him a second glance, opting for smiling and cooing at the little bundle in his arms. "Tyler, put the baby down before y' drop it.”

Tyler pouts, more so to himself than to the twenty-six year old. "Not gonna drop him."

"Tyler, put him down, or I swear to--"

Footsteps on the other side of the door quickly put him on alert, and he releases the doorknob, stalking hastily over to Tyler and grabbing his arm.

"Time to go," he whispers harshly, still glaring at him and giving a rough tug at his arm.

"We're taking him, Blur," Tyler whispers stubbornly, grinning at Blurry like a madman and cuddling the baby closer to his chest.

Blurry gives the small creature a quick glance, feeling a bit nervous at how he stirs ever so slightly in his sleep.

Or maybe it's the sweet innocence in his face, the soft beauty that echoes and screams of purity that makes Blurry's skin crawl, a lump forming in his throat.

It takes a while to find words he doesn't really mean.

"I don't want to bring him."

"Blur, he's perfect. We're keeping him--"

"Put him down or I will--"

The door knob's twisting cuts him off effectively, and Blurry simply lets out a quiet curse before dragging his "partner-in-crime" out of the room.

They run to the car, Blurry giving quick glances back to make sure they aren't being followed.

Tyler barely makes the jump over the gates with the baby in his arms, and a sadistic part of Blurry almost hopes he'll drop the kid, just to get rid of it, but alas, the universe seems to have different ideas, and all three of them are in the car before Blurry hits the gas and peels off.

The night world melts into muted, murky shadows and glowing colors as he speeds through the streets, still murmuring under his breath.

The disappointment that they weren't able to get hold of the doctor's secret stash of drugs is only overshadowed by the annoyance he feels towards Tyler, who sits in shotgun happily with the baby in his arms.

Blurry almost swerves when the baby lets out a tiny wail, clearly needing a few moments to process the last few minutes of his short yet confusing night of being rudely awoken.

He looks over quickly as he drives, frowning at the sight of tiny arms flailing in the air but even more so at the way Tyler immediately moves to soothe the baby, whispering gentle hushes and cradling him against his chest so easily likes it’s his second nature.

He only wishes Tyler was that eager to get their jobs finished instead of getting sidetracked so easily.

"Still can't believe this," Blurry huffs, taking a sharp turn as he glares at the road. "Can't fuckin' believe you snatched the damn baby--"

"B!" Tyler shouts, his hand coming out to smack the older man's arm. "No cursing in front of the baby."

"I'll curse whenever I damn well please," Blurry retorts, wincing when the baby lets out another loud wail, followed by a few sobs.

He doesn't know what makes him more uncomfortable: the baby's crying or Tyler's disapproving gaze boring holes into the side of his head.

They don't say anything else to each other for the rest of the drive. Tyler knows the older man well enough to give him space when he's upset or disappointed, and Blurry knows well enough to avoid starting a fight with the younger man.

Tyler whispers reassuring murmurs into the baby's cheek, stroking his back with his large hand as he presses kisses into the delicate curls of his wispy hair.

The baby calms eventually, whimpers and cries dying down just as they reach the parking lot of their apartment complex.

Blurry quickly exits out of the car once they park, marching to their home and unlocking the door before throwing it open.

He doesn't wait for Tyler to get in before he retreats to the bedroom, collapsing onto the mattress.

He sits, head in his hands and elbows on his knees.

The baby's wails echo in his ears, and he feels haunted.

 

•••••

 

Tyler comes in half an hour later, smiling gently with the baby settled in his arms.

The dark look Blurry casts his way would make the average male pass out from fear, his crimson eyes glowing, but Tyler ignores it, settling onto his side of the mattress.

"Y' gonna crush him if y' put him on the bed," Blurry mumbles, watching as Tyler shakes his head, pulling one of their blankets from off of the mattress and lying it out on the floor, placing the sleeping child onto top of it.

He lays a thin sheet above the little creature, stroking his forehead for a quiet moment and whispering something against his little cheek before pressing a kiss to it.

Blurry would've rolled his eyes if he secretly didn't find it so damn sweet.

Tyler lies on the bed moments after putting the baby down, ignoring how Blurry collapses tiredly a few feet away and turns from him, staring at the moldy wall instead.

As usual, Tyler pays him no mind, sidling up behind him easily, wrapping an arm around his abdomen and pressing his face into Blurry’s nape.

They're both quiet for a long moment, the older man tense under the brunet's tight hold.

It's impossible to keep ignoring him however, especially when his plump lips begin gently pressing against the skin of his neck. 

He sighs.

"Why now?"

"I could never have passed him up, B,” Tyler says it matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But what Blurry can’t unhear is the devastatingly happy tone in his voice, like he’s talking about his favorite flavor of ice cream or how much he loves the feeling of warm, fresh blood splattered across his face. “Have you seen him?”

"Havin’ offspring in this kinda business is gonna bring nothing but trouble,” Blurry retorts, sounding surprisingly calm even to his own ears for how troubled and annoyed he feels. 

"I know B," Tyler sighs against his skin. "But having a biological kid is even worse. Honestly, this is the best way to get a kid with no one knowing and using blood relations to their advantage.... no strings or relationships attached, y'know?."

Blurry winces, and he doesn't really know why.

There’s nothing to say that can convince Tyler to get rid of the kid, and he knows. 

He’ll just have to do it himself, he supposes. It’ll undoubtedly crush Tyler, break his heart and mangle his little soul, to have something he so clearly wants and desires to be ripped away from him, especially from behind his back, but Blurry needs to do it for him, for both of them, before the younger gets too attached and the older man gets driven off the brink of sanity (though, he’s sure, some would argue he’s already off the deep end).

He sighs, settling deeper into the mattress, the overwhelming tiredness in Blurry's bones and behind his eyes making him grow heavy. It's not long before he's falling asleep, the sound of Tyler’s murmured prayers and soft breathing guiding him into darkness.

 

••••••

 

When the next afternoon sun burns in the high point of the sky, Blurry wakes up, cold and alone.

He hears cooing and babbling in the living room, so he sighs, forcing his aching body to get up.

He showers, letting the nearly boiling water pour over his tired muscles. When he slips into his suit and sees Tyler's still neatly folded on the counter, questions begin pouring in his head.

The first one that comes out escapes his lips before Tyler even knows he's in the living room.

"How is this going to work?"

Tyler looks up from where he's sitting on the carpet, right in front of the baby who lies babbling and giggling, hand encasing one of Tyler's thin fingers.

"I've scheduled all the things we have to do, don't worry," Tyler answers absently, placing his hand on the baby's little tummy and rubbing it gently. "You're working during night, I'm taking the day."

Blurry frowns, immediately feeling sick at the idea. "So you're the one who's going to be handling the drug deals?"

"That's the easy part," Tyler reassures him with a flash of his blinding smile. "You have to steal 'em. That's the tough part."

Blurry's quiet, thinking it over in his head as he walks to their small kitchen. While he pours his coffee, mixes it absently for a few moments, he tries to come up with better ideas. 

Or atleast, better ideas that won't involve Tyler working alone.

The mere thought of letting him go out without Blurry to protect him makes his stomach churn.

"B," Tyler hums softly, his feet so light on the tile of the kitchen that Blurry never noticed him enter the small room, lost in his thoughts. 

"What?" he snaps, glaring at the younger man.

He doesn't know why he feels so irritated. Probably because things are changing, and not for the better.

"I know it's gonna take some getting used to, but it'll be okay," Tyler says softly, daring to walk closer and placing his hand over Blurry's licorice ones.

The touch burns.

Blurry growls, ripping his hand away from Tyler's and glaring at him.

He feels guilty for the hurt look that washes over the younger's face, but he knows it's just in Tyler's intricate plan to get Blurry to feel bad and apologize, thus furthering his own agenda and plans. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.

"This is a bad idea and you know it."

"Blur, I'm just trying to make this work," he sighs, arms dropping to his sides and pouting. "I know it isn't the most ideal schedule, but--"

"This isn't ideal at all," Blurry interrupts, looking away from Tyler when he realizes he can't handle his sad, pouting face, and instead opting to begin draining his steaming coffee down his throat.

"I know enough now," Tyler retorts. "If you haven't noticed, it's been a few years since I began working with you."

"Still don't like it," Blurry says shortly once his last gulp of coffee is already down his throat. 

"Why?" Tyler glares, crossing his arms. "Don't think I can protect myself?"

"No," Blurry begins walking out of the room. "I know you can't protect yourself."

And maybe he should've known better than to say that, because it's always been one of Tyler's issues that he's adamantly denied having, one that he stubbornly won't admit to having, thus making it one of the most touchy and sensitive subjects to think of, much less bring up.

"I'm much stronger and more capable than I was a couple of years ago," Tyler shouts, following quickly after the older man into the bedroom. "I can handle myself."

Blurry rolls his eyes, stopping his advancements just as Tyler runs in front of him, looking furious.

"Can you listen to me for five seconds?" Tyler shouts, and the feeling's back again, the sick churning in his stomach.

Even while Tyler's angry and ready to taste blood, all Blurry can think of is protecting him.

"You can't do this alone," Blurry says, gripping Tyler's upper arms tightly and making sure to lower his voice, hoping it calms Tyler. "It's too dangerous."

"I can!" Tyler spits, shoving Blurry away angrily. 

Blurry stumbles back a few steps, seeing red for a few moments. It's taking every ounce of willpower to not let his boiling rage seep to the top, his fists at his side shaking and ready to rush forward, shove Tyler into a wall and do something uncalled for and stupid like kiss him until he dies of suffocation--

Blurry shakes his head of those thoughts, the same ones that’d been plaguing his mind for years, ignores how pink and delicious Tyler's lips look as he glares at him.

"I'm not arguing with you about this anymore," he says firmly, trying to keep his breathing steady and the anger at bay. "I--"

A loud wail interrupts him from the living room, and Tyler's head snaps to look out the door, face growing pale.

"We're done with this conversation," Tyler hisses, walking out of the bedroom. "I'm working alone."

Blurry's head screams internally, the sharp volume making his brain spin. All he wants to do is collapse into bed and scream into the pillows, but instead, he walks over to his drawers, opening them jerkily and slamming them with more force than necessary after getting his watch and his black socks.

He slips on both items, the ugly monster in his mind growling and foaming at Tyler angrily. He's stupid, stupid, stupid.

Once he's all changed, he stalks out of the bedroom, walking down the dark hallway and out into the living room.

Tyler sits on the ground, bouncing the baby on his knee to calm him down. He refuses to look up at Blurry, but it doesn't matter, because the older man refuses to look at him as well.

He leaves the apartment quickly.

 

•••••

 

By the time the night is over, he's stolen from two houses, bought enough drugs and sold them just as quickly. He's overworking, trying to do a normal day's worth of selling and stealing so Tyler won't have to go out during the day.

Once the sun begins rising, he's a bit exhausted, eyes red and itchy, drooping as he drives at least forty miles above the speed limit back.

When he returns, he hears soft singing, little giggles.

He enters in the kitchen to see Tyler sitting at the table, the baby securely strapped in a little rocking chair made of poles and cloth, being fed from a bottle. 

Tyler looks up at him, but Blurry quickly turns away, grabs the coffee pot and pours the remaining black liquid into his cup.

It's cold and bitter when he drinks it, but he doesn't mind.

He hears Tyler leave the kitchen after a while, and once he finally turns around, he sees the baby grinning at him, holding his little sippy cup in chubby hands.

He babbles loudly, the wide smile on his face as infectious as his bubbly giggle.

Hesitance keeps Blurry glued to his place in the kitchen, simply studying the little creature for a moment. Perhaps it's the burning adrenaline or the stale caffeine that rushes through his half-dead brain that even gives him the tiniest ounce of courage, the little push that directs his slow steps towards the baby.

The latter gurgles loudly, milky spit bubbles forming, and Blurry scrunches up his nose.

"Don't do that," he mumbles, hesitantly reaching out and grasping the little bib around the baby's neck and wiping his mouth gingerly. 

He wonders silently where Tyler got all the baby supplies, but he decides it’s best not to mull over; the brunet had his ways. 

The baby giggles once Blurry releases the bib, shaking the sippy cup enthusiastically in his hands as he babbles on and on, as if he’s trying to tell the older man something. 

Blurry sighs, sitting on the floor and running a hand over his face. 

For a moment, complete clarity strikes him, the reality of a baby suddenly under their care, no matter how temporary, comes crashing into him like a wave and he feels undeniably overwhelmed.

He can steal, lie, even kill with a straight face and little thought, but this?

“Fuck,” he mumbles, swallowing tightly and staring at the painfully happy, oblivious baby. “What ‘m I gonna do with you?”

“His name’s Josh.”

Tyler’s voice rings clear through the small space, and Blurry can almost hear his crossed arms, the stern gaze undoubtedly contorting his facial features in just his voice. 

Turning around silently, his conjectures are confirmed, and they stare silently at one another for a moment.

Tyler finally shakes his head, walks over quietly and sits beside Blurry on the floor. 

He takes Josh’s sippy cup away so easily, getting nothing, if not a little resistance in the form of a firm grip in return. 

He’s so gentle, careful as he wraps his hands easily and secures the baby, picking him up tenderly and placing him to rest against his chest.

There’s something about it that makes Blurry feel a spark of something in his heart, an unspoken, untraceable, unidentifiable sort of thing, but it’s not so foreign when it comes to Tyler making him feel things he can’t understand. 

He holds Josh for a little, just rocking him slightly with the softest hums, long enough for the baby’s almond eyes to fall close peacefully.

It takes a few minutes after they’re both sure Josh has really fallen asleep until Tyler finally looks at Blurry, doe-eyed and somewhat tired. 

“Don’t go,” Blurry says immediately, as if he knows what Tyler is thinking, because he does. 

Tyler stares. 

And Blurry knows he’ll regret it, he’s only serving to give more time for Tyler to get attached to the baby and he’ll only be working against himself, but there’s something in his heart that takes over, a small but intense desire to give Tyler just a small amount of time for himself, flush this poisonous fantasy of being a father out of his system and let him come back to working when he’s ready to commit fully like Blurry, ready to give up anything (or like he wishes to think). 

“Don’t go,” he repeats. “If you’re keeping him,” his crimson eyes dare to glance at the babbling baby, and something in him twists, “the most you’re gonna be doing is working from here. Otherwise, you aren’t going back out on the streets anymore. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

He thinks Tyler’s going to protest at first, glare and take Blurry’s suggestion as some sort of evidence for how “incapable” he supposedly thinks Tyler is, shake that stubborn head of his and state haughtily that he can do anything he damn well pleases.

Instead, Tyler stares at the older man with something in his eyes, an unexpected, tender kind of softness he’s only used to seeing in the dark, dead night, when Tyler thinks Blurry isn’t looking or doesn’t care enough to notice.

But he does notice and he does care, no matter how much he doesn’t want to admit it. 

Maybe he cares a little too much.

“Thank you, B,” he says softly, his chestnut eyes shining and Josh babbling, the warming sunlight filtering through the room; if they closed their eyes, they could pretend everything was domestically perfect and picturesque. 

And for a split moment, Blurry wishes it was.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make another story with chapters but there’s no way I can justify that with all my other unfinished ones ;-; but I’ve been wanting to write something for so long so I decided to just make this a series. 
> 
> I hope that it’s okay ^^ please feel free to leave a comment or kudos.. I’ve really missed you all ❤️


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